


No Reprieve

by rikujo



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: EngSpa Week 2018, Historical Hetalia, Light Angst, M/M, also apparently I only get ship week things done right on the deadline now, both sexual and otherwise, lots of tension honestly, prompt 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-02 00:03:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15784875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rikujo/pseuds/rikujo
Summary: Unexpected visits can lead to unexpected outcomes and, for Arthur and Antonio, nothing has ever been simple.





	No Reprieve

**Author's Note:**

> I choose a non-historical prompt and turned it historical just because. 
> 
> This is set somewhere around 1615-1620, part of an incident we now term 'The Spanish Match' (not to be confused with Mary's Spanish Match). This one involved Charles, son of James I the then King, whose actions devolve into some frankly hilarious bullshit towards the end. Here's the [wiki article](http:https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spanish_match) if you want a quick overview but it will tell you what happens.
> 
> The war discussed is the Thirty-Years War, which saw fighting between Catholic and Protestant states (most particularly within the Holy Roman Empire).

“Sir! Mr Kirkland, sir, there’s a gentleman here to see you.”

Arthur glanced back to see a page hurrying down the palace corridor towards him but almost immediately returned to reading the parchment in his hands. He’d already been bothered by a messenger that morning to have a letter shoved into his arms. Dull and unwelcome though the missive was, he’d still rather be left alone to read Francis’s drivel in peace.

“I’m afraid I’m busy,” Arthur dismissed, resuming his walk down the corridor as he perused the letter. “I’m sure it will educate the caller in making appointments instead of arriving without warning.”

“Yes, I said that to him, sir, but he says he came an awfully long way.”

Arthur paused, finally lifting his head from the lines. “How far exactly?” he asked.

“All the way from Spain, he says, sir.”

The edge of the parchment crumpled between his fingers. Damn it all.

“Where is he?”

“He said he knew the way to your rooms, sir, and that he’d wait there.”

Arthur roughly folded the letter, rustling it. “Of course he did,” he muttered acerbically.

He turned on his heel, stalking back the way he'd come without sparing another word for the page. He knew exactly who he would find waiting for him and exactly what he'd want to discuss. If he stomped up the staircase a little more forcefully than normal, creaking the wood, he blamed it on that knowledge.

Of late Arthur had sat through more meetings with the Spanish ambassador than he could bear, as they amended and _re_ -amended the same blasted marriage contract only to achieve nothing, but when he pulled up before the already _open_ door to his chambers and looked over at the figure waiting before the window, it was the first time he'd seen Antonio in years.

He slipped through the door, silently observing his fellow nation for a moment.

Then he kicked the door shut behind him as hard as he could. It landed solidly, the latch catching on the frame with a clatter, and Antonio spun smartly to face him. He frowned accusingly.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

Antonio offered him a vibrant smile in return. “Arthur! I was beginning to think you weren’t coming to greet me. That would have been a shame. It’s hardly the shortest journey.”

“Yes, and one you wouldn’t have made without a reason. Why are you here?” Arthur repeated. His frown deepened. “You didn’t tell me you were coming.”

Antonio shrugged. “I didn’t think it was important enough to tangle it up in ceremony.” Arthur stared back at him expressionlessly. He wasn’t about to buy such excuses. Antonio retained his serene countenance, apparently unruffled. “Besides, personal matters are best discussed face to face, don’t you think?” he said.

Arthur arched an eyebrow. “The marriage is a personal matter now, is it?” he asked coolly.

“They all have been, haven’t they? The aftermath certainly _felt_ personal last time,” Antonio finished pointedly, something sharp catching on the edges of that smile at last.

“Yes, you’d think that would have taught you a lesson about arriving unannounced by boat,” Arthur drawled.

“You won a battle not a war,” Antonio retorted, which somewhat curtailed the satisfied feeling that had been blooming in Arthur’s chest. “But we’re putting it behind us, right? That’s what the match is for.”

Arthur couldn’t resist scoffing. “Is it? _I_ was under the impression it was a farce.” Antonio opened his mouth but Arthur halted him with sharp look. “Please don’t waste your breath denying it. We all know your little ambassador has James falling over himself at the thought of a shiny Spanish dowry. I’m sure if you keep him preoccupied long enough he _won’t_ move troops onto the continent.”

Antonio heaved a sigh. “You’re so untrusting that it wears me out. It’s got nothing to do with the others or any of the trouble going on,” he denied, but his placating tone did nothing but sweep irritation up Arthur’s spine. “If we do it it’ll be good for the whole continent – it’ll calm things down.” Antonio stepped away from him in a seemingly aimless wander, pausing to drag a thumb down the one of the carved bedposts as he shrugged. “Perhaps we’ll even get lucky and it will actually work out this time. It can’t be worse than Henry.”

Bristling, Arthur glared at him. What little good humour he’d had was beginning to diminish.

“You think I don’t see your _husband’s_ meddling hand in this? I’m sure he’s quite pleased to see me staying out of the war, kept busy by this mess.”

Antonio’s brows pulled together. “Don’t bring Roderich into this.”

“And let myself get played by the both of you?” Arthur snapped. “You will not for one second convince me that this is an innocent venture. You can dangle such propositions before the King to try and prevent the scales tipping but I see the battle lines as plain as day.”

Antonio shook his head at him.

“You’d really prefer war, again? You must have forgotten the damage it does, the cost too…and how much joy the alternative can bring.” Antonio’s gaze drifted across to meet his. “Is fighting really all you think about when we’re together? Have you erased the other memories so easily, Arturo?” Antonio asked softly.

Steadfastly ignoring the emotive tone, Arthur pursed his lips. “I remember two thoroughly disastrous marriages that did more harm than good,” he answered, “little more.”

Antonio huffed out a laugh. “It’s worst to tell lies to yourself, you know,” he said. “We both know that’s not how you felt at the time.”

“That was prior to everything going wrong,” Arthur justified stiffly. “I have no desire to repeat history _again_ , nor to think about something that will never be.” He looked away from Antonio, shaking his head bitterly. “You arriving on the doorstep will not persuade me either – this nonsense make my head ache.”

“But you’ve wanted it before,” Antonio was quick to remind him. “You’re too clever not to see the appeal, Arturo,” he murmured, the sound of his boots against the floor making Arthur twitch as he stepped closer. “Everything that was broken by past mistakes…we could fix it all.”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed, flicking across to him.

“I am not James. I will not throw myself before pretty promises that hold no substance.” He folded his arms. “You came all this way but you’ve yet to offer anything new _or_ solid…Did you really think your presence alone would be enough to persuade me?”

Antonio’s lips twitched and he shrugged.

“I might have hoped it would help. I hear you don’t like my ambassador, so you can’t blame me for thinking you’d rather see a familiar face.” The Spaniard shifted ever closer. “Come on, Arthur, you could relax a little.”

He went so far as to reach out and pluck at Arthur’s sleeve, trying to get him to uncross his arms from their tense position. Arthur rolled his eyes, letting them fall back to his sides if only to prevent the prodding.

“Believe me, your ambassador counts as a familiar face. I’ve seen far too much of him of late.”

A quick grin spread on Antonio’s lips. “I meant familiar in a slightly _different_ way.”

Antonio’s eyes flicked rather deliberately towards his bed and Arthur frowned.

“Don’t change the topic,” he returned shortly, trying for scolding but not quite reaching it.

“Who says I’m changing the topic. I’m just considering the possible benefits…I’m sure we’d see a lot more of each other.” Antonio shrugged a shoulder. “There are a couple of compromises to be made here and there, but I’m sure you could deal with them.”

“You’re far too optimistic—not to mention obvious. Do you honestly think that will persuade me either?”

“You’re too cynical,” Antonio replied, bypassing the question entirely.

Instead Arthur found gentle fingers suddenly resting against his hip as Antonio’s eyes swept across his face. When Antonio’s eyes found his, he cursed his heartrate for lifting. He tried to pretend that it hadn’t. That became impossible when Antonio lifted his other hand, tracing a thumb back along his jaw.

Arthur kept his expression carefully blank.

“Do you remember what it was like the first time,” Antonio murmured, “Before everything was ruined? Little Mary was like a jewel when she was young, the best of both our lands…you used to dote on her.”

Arthur swallowed. “This isn’t relevant to—”

“Those times were better for us,” Antonio continued, cutting him off. “We never had to deal with the constant threat of tension and war when Catherine and Henry were first married – at least not from each other. I miss escaping here, you know? Walking round the palace gardens with you in summer…”

Arthur knew he shouldn’t be listening, _why_ was he listening? When Antonio’s eyes slipped downwards, lingering on his lips, he told himself to step away.

“Those days are gone,” he dismissed as firmly as he could manage.

“They don’t have to be,” Antonio countered. “This match could change everything. We could have peace just like we had then. We could actually get to enjoy each other’s company.” Antonio’s palm pressed, warm, against his side and for the briefest moment Arthur made the mistake of leaning in slightly. “All you have to do is persuade your King, Arturo,” Antonio whispered, drawing ever closer, “Then everything will work out.”

And that was the moment Arthur’s senses returned to him.

His arm came up in an instant, braced across Antonio’s collarbones, and he shoved the Spaniard backwards with a snarl worthy of a lion.

“Do you honestly think I’m such a fool? I am not so blind to your nature the way so many others are – I know manipulation when I hear it.”

Antonio scoffed, the charming warmth behind his eyes going flat in an instant. He looked away with a shake of his head. Arthur’s teeth gritted, irritation flooding him anew at seeing the other man’s apparent calm.

“You’re your own worst enemy, Arthur,” Antonio muttered.

Arthur instinctively pressed harder, flattening Antonio’s back into the wall behind him.

“Why, because I have a sense of self-preservation?” he growled. “I didn’t trust the proposal from the start and you’ve all but handed me proof that it is nothing more than a tool to further your ends. Why else would you try so hard to persuade me?”

“Half of what I said wasn’t even directly _about_ the marriage, Arthur, it was about us.” A corner of his lips twitched, the mere ghost of a humourless smile, and those green eyes met Arthur’s once more. “You’re a coward,” Antonio declared. Arthur almost flinched— _almost_. “After all our fights I never thought I’d find such an easy way of unsettling you…All it takes is a little emotion.”

“That has _nothing_ to do with this,” Arthur hissed.

“Doesn’t it? Then why are you so afraid of it?”

Arthur’s eyes slitted.

“Don’t you dare presume to know me.” He straightened up with a jerk, tugging his shirt cuffs neatly back into place. “There is nothing left to discuss,” he said coldly. His swept over Antonio one last time. “I think you can show yourself out.”

He turned sharply on his heel before Antonio could open his mouth again. In three steps he was at the door and, the latch protesting as he flung it open, soon out into the corridor.

There was a heavy sigh from behind him. “Mierda,” followed in a murmur.

Arthur set his jaw, ignored it, and walked on.

**Author's Note:**

> England briefly joined the Thirty-Years war after negotiations for a Spanish marriage broke down. Charles went on to marry a French princess, and then to later be executed. I’ll leave it up to you to decide whether Tonio is telling the truth or whether he’s playing political games like Arthur thinks he is. 
> 
> Kudos and comments make me stupidly happy! I'm [anglaisaph](http://anglaisaph.tumblr.com/) on tumblr if you want to pop over. Thanks for reading! ❤


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